


Burn With You

by SmutKween (GothTrash)



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothTrash/pseuds/SmutKween
Summary: Violet is an apprentice builder, and is having the worst night of her life. Her father, a Shaman has found her and is sending her to Skelletraz. Not that she ever gets there.(Follows some major events of the game. Basically a vehicle for smut and angst.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All of this because my best friend wanted Malroth smut. Queue a nebulous idea for a long fic that is probably going to make me tear my hair out. 
> 
> [[Generic 'I own nothing' statement]]

I storm down the old creaky staircase alight with sorrow and rage. This was it—I was finally done with Rodderick’s bullshit and there wasn’t any way he was winning me back. Not this time. Not after catching him with my best friend.

“Baby wait!” I hear this as I get to the landing halfway down the stairs. I turn back over my shoulder, though I shouldn’t have,, and see the Rodderick, known to most women my age as the ‘Adonis of Turnsby’ standing at the top of the stairs nude, save for the pillow he has over his crotch.

“No, Rodderick. You fucked up for the last time. If you’re going to keep being an asshole, you’re doing it single, because we’re done.” I snap, my vision blurring due to the tears welling in my eyes.

“It was Elysha, baby, please! She got all up on me and—”

“Don’t—ugh. Don’t try that on me. It’s not going to work, you bastard. I hope you two are happy together, you deserve each other.” My calloused hands turn into fists as I stomp down the last few steps to the front door. More creaking follows me as Rodderick tries to keep me from escaping the house.

I’m outside and into the chill of the night before he can get to me. His front yard full of flowers and landscaping that I had helped him with in my fleeting spare time, and you bet your ass I ruined as much of it as I could on my way out as my footfall quickened down the steep hill to his front gate.

The arid dirt beneath my feet barely kicks up any dust as I move faster and faster. Rodderick’s shouts are angry from behind me, lamenting his plants as I get to the gate and shove the old iron door open and speed out onto the cobblestone road. Its empty due to it being the early hours of the morning, so the chances of my having to deal with questions are slim.

It was stupid. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have given him that last chance. I shouldn’t have given him any chances after the first time he cheated, to be fair. Rodderick was a guy I never thought would want me. He was gorgeous, and when I met him outside the café I was helping my Master build, I thought he was kind.

However it only took a few months to catch him hitting on one girl, and then began the revolving door of him worming his way back into my good graces and convincing me to give him another chance. Two years of that the entire time my “best friend”, Elysha, was by my side calling him a ‘dick’ and a ‘fuck boy’ saying I should just let go.

It never occurred to me that maybe she wanted him—or was tired of keeping their trysts private.

Then tonight, I get off early and go to Rodderick’s place to surprise him…and he’s balls deep in Elysha. It’s going to be burned into my brain. Her ebony skin against his own pale pallor. The look of absolute passion in her eyes as she looked up at him, and the curve of his lips as he leaned down to kiss her…

I just wanted to go back to my hometown at this point and avoid the apologies that Rodderick was sure to throw at me. at least I wouldn’t have to see him back in Langdale. I could fall into my mother’s arms and sob—listen to my father swear to Hargon that he’s going to kill Rodderick, and watch movies with my Uncle Melvin until I pass out.

That wasn’t an option though. As far as my father was concerned, I was missing.

Such is the case when the daughter of a Shaman for the Children of Hargon runs off to be a builder’s apprentice.

No one in my family knew where I was, though my Uncle was thoroughly against the Children of Hargon and let me tinker at his place when no one else was around. It was safer if no one knew. My father was a brutal man and wasn’t above giving ‘lessons’ to those who went against Hargon.

Still, I was where I needed to be now. I tried not to dwell on family, since I had a new one. My Master, Darrick Raab, and his wife, Leslie were like parents, and their three children were like the siblings I never had. The only reason I lived in the loft above the workshop was because I chose to stay there after Darrick had finished renovating his own home.

That loft was the first thing I built with my own two hands. Darrick had wanted to see what I could come up with, with my limited knowledge. I’d been jotting down my ‘ideas’ of how to build whatever I could think of in a giant journal that my father had given me. it was supposed to be for prayers to Hargon…and as far as he knew, that’s what they were… but the book detailed diagrams and items needed to renovate and build an assortment of things. I always had the book on me in a backpack that I wore, just in case I had a moment of genius.

The loft, though I had to re-do a good chunk of it a number of times because Darrick said it needed to be ‘better’, was my engineering. My home that I was beyond proud of. He even let me knock out part of the roof for a giant bank of windows so I could watch the sky from bed at night.

My home, the large workshop in the center of Turnsby, a town I knew and knew me well after two years of working on rebuilding it after the town collectively turned against Hargon, loomed ahead of me as my chest heaved. The windows I loved so much showed a glow from the lamp I’d left on, so I didn’t trip and fall down the stairs.

I just wanted to get into some old sweats, climb into bed and cry myself to sleep over Rodderick for the last time.

My plan on using the old splintered barn doors to break my fall fell through along with me to the gravely earth inside. I caught myself with my hands, bits of broken glass and sharp stones hit my palms and cut into my flesh. I let out a squeak of pain before I noticed I wasn’t alone.

“Violet, run—” For the first time since I have come to Turnsby, I hear Darrick in pure panic. My body reacts to his word, and a surge of adrenaline shoots me to my feet as I start to back out into the moonlight.

Darrick is bent over the large anvil in the center of the room, a Hargonaut standing with a sword to the side of his neck swaying slightly as it waits for orders. Its bones are an unearthly green in the moonlight, probably from the moss and algae growing on them from being out on the Hargon controlled seas for so long.

There’s more than just the one Hargonaut, though. There’s a few Deadnauts peeking through the items we’re working on in the shop. One smashes a stool that’s glue is still drying with the pommel of its sword. I wince as the wood clatters down to the hard floor, still trying to back out quietly as I feel the hot wet of blood on my palms.

Then a shadow falls across me. It’s wide and I turn in time to catch a khopesh to the top of my head. The taut skin of my scalp splits and my cranium jerks back from the pain—but that only makes things worse. The tip of the sharp curved blade drags down the right side of my forehead to split my brow.

Only one person I know uses a khopesh.

“Dad?”

The blank mask of a Shaman is staring back at me. The black eye band seems to be rifling through my soul. I feel the disappointment and rage emanating in a wide aura from my father as he looks down at me from his incredible height.

“I have no daughter,” he says coldly. “Any child of mine would follow the teachings of Hargon. Not run off to be a builder.” He practically spits the last word and I flinch. I always hated it when my father got mad. He is a giant brute, topping six foot five, and wide as a normal doorway.

“Hargon is bullshit,” Darrick snaps. “What religion would have their followers live destitute and starving?”

The Hargonaut’s pommel hits the side of Darrick’s head and I try to get to him. I don’t know what I was going to do. No way I could beat a Hargonaut, but I had to help my Master. Unfortunately, my father swung his war maul and took out my legs, sending me back to the ground.

“Don’t turn your back on me, whelp,” his voice is a guttural growl. “I’m far from done with you. You will learn Hargon’s teachings at Skelletraz if necessary.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? Isn’t my faith why you ran in the first place, heretic?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want your family to live the way we did when I could’ve made it better—I want the people of Gravelworth to have good lives, to be comfortable. If building is how I do that—you’re right, I’m a heretic, and proud of it.”

“Lesson the first,” by father says in a stone cold voice: “Don’t talk back. Boys?”

Shuffling footsteps signal the Deadnauts heading in my direction. I try to roll to my feet, the pressure on my hands pushing the glass and gravel in further, but I get a big booted foot to my belly and drop back down, the wind knocked from my lungs.

“Violet!” I hear Darrick cry out.

I can’t answer him. I’m gasping, trying to collect air into my lungs and it’s not working. The irrational fear that I won’t breathe again grips me. I grip my baggy t-shirt so tight that I cry out from the way the tick cotton pulls at the glass.

I curl up on my side, now with less air in my lungs than ever and watch the Deadnauts bear down on me, brandishing blunt items found from the shop: wooden dowels, the legs of the stool I was making, and a wrought iron pipe.

_ God, this is going to hurt. _

The Deadnauts show no mercy as they bring their makeshift weapons down on my body. I’d been in fights before and taken my share of beatings at the hands of jerks around Langdale as we fought for what resources were available, but this was on a whole new level.

I knew every hit was going to bruise, my body would be a mass of black and blue tomorrow…if I survive. My head wound was bleeding horribly, leaving my head in a sticky pool on the ground and matting my hair.

“Stop,” my father finally said after a while and the Deadnauts ceased their torment. I don’t know when I regained my ability to breathe, though my intate was shallow, but I took a rattling breath. I was sore—so incredibly sore.

My father stoops down, hitching up his robes so they don’t touch the dirt and squats next to me, his mask still securely in place, leaving me only able to picture the face I was glaring at.

“Do you see what your building has put upon you, child? Are you ready to give up this foolishness and turn to Hargon?”

A wad of spit hits the shining white ceramic.

“Never,” I say swallowing as quiet as I can. I know I’ll pay dearly for what I’ve just done, but there’s no way I could ever go back to Langdale and live under his roof.

My father juts out a hand and palms the side of my head, turning me to face Darrick. His fingers press hard against my skull as I struggle meagerly to be free.

“This man turned you from Hargon’s light. Lesson the second…”

My father trails off and I’m stuck looking at Darrick as his eyes widen and he struggles, his legs and arms flailing as he tries to fight off the Hargonaut as the monster raises its sword high.

“No. NO!” I cry out. My body is too sore and battered to fight so I settle for squeezing my eyes shut so hard I see fireworks.

“Witness the heretic’s death,” my father orders. “For it is of your own making.”

“No,” I cry again, tears seeping from my shut eyes and mixing with the blood on the ground.

I hear the sound of the blade slicing through the air and then warm wet drops hit me before a ‘ting’ rings out. I scream and turn my face to the ground, not wanting to give my father the satisfaction of seeing my pain. There’s a loud thud from a few feet away, and I shudder at the thought of Darrick’s head laying unseeing on the dirty floor of the shop.

Darrick, of all people, deserved to die old and gray surrounded by children, and grandchildren. Instead his end was at the word of my father all because I had dared to defy him and his precious Hargon.

I open my eyes to see Darrick’s slumped body next to the anvil and the Hargonaut staring me down, the eerie glow from its sockets making the recesses of its skull that much darker—and I know why these things are seen as the stuff of nightmares.

“Are you—”

“Shut the fuck up and take me to Skelletraz.” I shriek at him, stunning him to silence for the time being. I have never in my life have spoken to my father in such a manner. “I refuse to listen to anything you have to say.

“You just killed the only real father I’ve ever had all because of some dead fucknut and his backassward teachings? No—nothing you say means anything. You’re dead to me.”

“So be it,” he says quietly and a moment later I’m bathed in moonlight once more. “Take the whelp to the docks and get her on board and set sail. The others and I will cleanse this wretched place.”

I lie there limply and listen to his plans for Turnsby which amounts to scorched earth. He wanted to un-do everything Darrick and I had done to fix this place. The people here were going to fight, that much I knew, but it would be bloody and many would die.

And after? Who would re-build without Darrick or I here?

These were things I thought of as I was lifted by a pair of Deadnauts and carried to the docks on the South side of town. All the while, my head hung and I watched the city pass for the last time upside-down. People were silhouetted in their windows watching as I was taken to one of the ships in Hargon’s fleet. It was a grim send off in some ways, but mostly, I enjoyed the memories of speaking with the townspeople as I worked various smaller jobs for them.

The smell of the ocean becomes stronger and I can hear sea birds and the creak of wood.

“Who’s this? Mathias’ daughter?” I hear the clicking that comes along with Deadnaut’s speech and close my eyes. I’m exhausted. “She’s bleeding pretty bad. Get her in the brig and clean her up. I don’t want her dying before her re-education.”

_ Oh great _ .

I didn’t think too highly of monster’s first aid abilities, so I was sure to end up with some sort of infection. That would probably kill me before I saw dry land again. We moved again, the rattle of bones far too loud for my own liking, and then it becomes brighter, and I can see the vague flicker of fire through my eyelids.

Heavy metal scrapes against itself in a savage shriek and I’m laid down, more carefully than I would have expected on a bed of something. It’s scratchy, and pokes at my skin. It smells like a barn. Straw?

I open my eyes and the world spins. The throbbing headache which has been following me since the workshop grows worse and I have a Deadnaut staring down at me, the red glow in its sockets seemingly trained on me.

“Just let me die…”

“I got my orders,” it clicks back.

With those words I’m out, lost to darkness as consciousness rapidly slips from me. 


	2. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet wakes up on the Isle of Awakening, hungry, and exhausted. She finds companionship with a mysterious man and a pink haired woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so hopefully no one crucifies me for my portrayal of Malroth. >.>   
Sorry if there's some slight grammar issues, my bestie who edited the prologue is at her boyfriend's but I couldn't wait to post this for you all! :)
> 
> If anyone's interested, the playlist of songs that remind me of characters/my story plot is:   
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6DuRNGJZKpGCKNKGtgbCl8?si=PG0drnNBRYGED7CYXFDHtg
> 
> I can share my pinterest board next chapter if you all want to see it! :)

The thick feel of wet sand is the first thing I can actively remember. My hands dig into it and one of them closes around something hard and cylindrical…and I’m cold. I groan just to have a wave of salt water surge up and enter my mouth.

Pushing myself out of the way of the offending liquid I sputter and cough. Trying to get it out of the back of my throat before I ingest god knows what. I know enough to know salt water can make you sick and I wasn’t having that, not after what I’d been through.

Five months. I’d been on that stupid Hargon ship five months before a storm had knocked holes in the hull and I, the only builder on board was dispatched to fix them. Fucking hypocrites. Building’s bad until they need something themselves? Assholes.

But, building was what I’d loved doing, and five months without being able to do anything except stare at my cell door and pray I was some sort of deity that could smite them was getting maddening. So I did their light work with a smile on my face, albeit a tight smile, just happy to be out of my cell.

I moved crates and barrels. Made torches and plugged holes in the hull. Hell, one Deadnaut even had me build a cypress stick to try and beat his buddy into a pulp…which, I did. He was nothing but a disjointed pile of bones by the time I was done.

I have some rage to work through, okay?

While I was out and about on deck, a storm hit that was even worse than the one that’d sprung us a leak. The sea practically turned black, the sky was almost as dark, and the rain was hitting us from all sides. The crashing waves sent us into rock formations, and then I hit the cold water.

I open my eyes here on the beach. Everything is bright and has an air of calm to it—a far cry from the last time I was awake. There’s mountains of chalk and sunny sand as far as the eye can see. A small smile comes to my lips as I stumble to my feet, my hand still gripping the cylindrical object.

I raise it and see the cypress stick that I’d made, the barbs sticking out of it sharp as ever. I could break things with this with some effort—maybe build a shelter somewhere here until I feel strong enough to try and find civilization…if there is any on this rock. There’s no telling where I washed up.

I look around to see barrels, crates and random Deadnaut bones floating in the ocean. I couldn’t spot another living being where I was and that was disheartening. I wasn’t the only captive on that ship. There was a pink haired girl, and a few others in the cells around mine.

_I should search. Maybe someone survived_.

The idea of being completely alone on an empty island terrified me. I was somewhat social. I loved my alone time, but I also enjoyed the occasional company of others. Not having that was going to drive me insane. So I staggered forward picking up pieces of kelp to munch on and get my energy up. It was slimy and gross, but at least I was getting some much needed calories in me.

I get out of the water and walking gets harder as the sand dries out. Its warm here on the beach so I seek shade under an outcropping of chalk. There’s not much space due to a sand dune that traveled up the beach. I have to clear it to get any peace, so I finish the piece of kelp I’m eating and begin to dig.

The sand gives way easy enough. It was packed hard enough that it came away in chunks and soon enough it became clear there was more beach through a hole the dune had hidden. I see scallywinkles in the water, and I know from experience that if I can build a bonfire that I’ll have a satisfying lunch.

With some infrequent breaks I manage to get large enough of a hole for me to slide through to the other side of the chalk outcropping. My old cotton t-shirt sticks to my body, now covered in a fine layer of sand. I brush it off and pull the shirt from my body giving myself a reprieve from the cold.

My jean shorts are another matter. They grip the granules of sand trapping them in the fibers and make them exceedingly uncomfortable. I’m planning on taking them off so I can let them dry in the sun and hope the sand comes off easier, when I see movement on a boulder overlooking the ocean.

There’s a man—a tall man standing with his back to me staring out at the blue water. I look to see what he’s staring at and now I notice the bodies. All the other prisoners are floating in the water, unmoving amidst a scattered bone or two. My chin trembles as I see the carnage left by the storm.

_That could have been you._

Now more than ever I want company and seeing as how I have the option; I take it immediately addressing his back:

“Hey! Hey you!”

The shoulder length deep brown hair of the man turns with him, made brittle by the ocean water. I begin to see facial features, a full deep brown beard, a sharp nose and a heavy brow over two bright red eyes.

_Red eyes?_

That definitely wasn’t human—but it was too late now. The man’s lips curve up into a smirk and he turns, his bare chest now facing me adorned with a shark tooth necklace…and god he’s ripped.

_Not now, Violet_.

The man hops down off the boulder and saunters my direction, as I instinctively grip my cypress stick. It’ll at least give me time to run if he attacks. After being attacked the way I was back in Turnsby, you lose a lot of faith in others—especially when the first hit comes from the man that raised you.

The man gets closer and I try to stay calm, and keep my voice even:

“Do you know where we are?”

“No idea,” his voice is deep and has a hardness to it. It’s one of those voices that resonates through you, and sits deep in your chest. I know it sure as hell reverberated through me.

It was his eyes though—they were human enough, but the irises were a bright crimson. His lip lifts into a sneer.

“What are you doing?”

_Shit._

I realize I probably look like a Furrowfield retriever with my head cocked as I was studying his eyes. I right myself and run my hand through my tangled mass of mousy brown hair and giggle nervously.

“S-Sorry, I just…never seen a guy with red eyes before.”

“They’re red?” He seems confused. I look up at him, brows pinched in the center.

“…yeah.”

Now the man seems bothered. He looks back to the ocean and sighs. “Fuck me.”

“What’s the problem? I mean…how do you not know your own—”

“Because I don’t remember anything,” he snaps, whipping his head back to me, those red eyes narrowed into slits at me. “I woke up on that fucking rock—and I can’t remember a fucking thing about who I am, where I came from or why I’m here.”

“Fucking shit—back off it was just a question,” I say putting my free hand up defensively. This seems to snap him out of his anger enough for his face to become less contorted and let out a sigh.

“Sorry—” he says dropping his head to look at his feet. “Its just frustrating when all you can remember is your name.”

Looking at him closer now, the man seems to be in his late twenties, maybe very early thirties. At least with the lines on his face that’s what I guess. I can see frown lines and worry lines marring his beautifully tanned skin.

“What—what is your name?” I ask. “You know—since we’re stuck here…”

The man looks up at me, and now he’s studying me, and I realize why he got defensive. It’s an unsettling feeling to know someone’s picking apart your features and making assumptions.

“Heh…” I look down, my hair shielding my face and giving me some sort of protection from his roaming eyes.

“Malroth.” He responds simply.

_Interesting name_.

“No surname?”

“Malroth is all that comes to me. It feels like it’s mine so it must be my name.”

“You’re Malroth, then.” I smile and reach out my hand that doesn’t have the Cypress Stick in it to shake his hand. “I’m Violet Sayer.” Malroth takes my hand, and unsurprisingly he gives a strong handshake. I steel my hand in return and he laughs.

“No need to front, Violet—if you’re as soft as your name, I should know now.”

I jerk my hand back, it immediately balling into a fist and going to my side. No way I’m picking a fight with a goddamned giant. Especially one that’s shredded like he is. But boy was he going to know not to mess with me.

“I survived a khopesh to the head, and a beating at the hand of four Deadnauts to be dragged onto a Hargon vessel and do their goddamned lightwork for five months. Then, the fucking ship crashes and I end up here with a fucking asshole like you—so no. I’m anything but ‘soft like my name’.”

The entire time I’m ranting, Malroth just sits there blank faced. No fear. No looking impressed or angry—just placid. It makes me more enraged, so I try to storm off.

Have you ever tried to storm off in sand? It fucking sucks. It fights you the entire way, so I wasn’t more than a few feet when I hear steps behind me.

“Violet,” he says.

“No.”

“Violet,” now a singsong tone.

“Fuck off.”

“Violet,” he’s terse. I turn and face him, and now both of us are glaring at the other, staring straight into the other’s pupils, neither of us willing to back down. He steps closer and I hold my ground and dig my heels into the sand. This ass is not going to get the best of me.

Or so I thought.

With lightning fast reflexes, he grabs my head with both hands and kisses me, bending the half foot it takes him to do so, so quick that his kiss hits me hard. It’s demanding and full of fire, his lips moving against my still ones as he tries to get a reaction out of me. My reaction?

I shove him back as hard as I can, and barely move him an inch, but it gets him to stop and look at me, and there’s as much fire in his eyes as there was in his kiss.

“The fuck are you doing?” I snap. “I don’t know you. You—you can’t just go around kissing people like that,” my face is flushed so bad I can feel the heat in my ears.

“Are you done?” He asks and moves in again, for another kiss and I do the only thing I can think to stop it—I palm his face and push him back again.

“Malroth, no!” He swats my hand away and lets me go. He’s back to standing at his full height and he looks annoyed. “I know you know fuck all right now, but you don’t just go around kissing people without checking with them first. It’s really fucking creepy.” I run a hand through my hair, completely unsure of how this whole ‘stranded on an island’ thing is going to go if this is how he is going to behave.

“Okay.” He says.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll ask next time,” he shrugs, and my blush deepens.

_Next time_.

_Keep your head on straight, Violet._

I manage to keep my face angry, and hopefully he’ll take my flushed cheeks as anger and not what it really is. I mean—the kiss wasn’t bad. It wasn’t how Rodderick kissed me—for a fuckboy he certainly didn’t know how to do it right, no matter how much I told him I didn’t need my face washed every time we made out.

The only reason the kiss with Malroth was any sort of moist was the sea spray trapped in his beard. That was acceptable. That wasn’t a tongue on my face.

“There—there won’t be one,” I stutter, failing at keeping my resolve.

Malroth smirks at me and brushes a chunk of crunchy hair from my face. It’s a taunt masked as a sweet gesture, he’s daring me to do something be it fight him or fuck him. Though I’ve been on a Hargon imposed dry spell, I’m not hopping into bed with Malroth ten minutes after meeting him. Even if he is sex on legs.

There’s a sputtering cough from behind me and my head whips around to see a girl with pastel pink hair pushing herself up out of a shallow pool. She throws up a belly of seawater and partially digested kelp.

“Oh shit,” I turn from Malroth who groans in annoyance and run as quick as I can to the girl and drop to my knees next to her. I pat her back trying to help her get it out, because it sounds like she’s having trouble breathing.

“C’mon, you can do it,” I smile reassuringly. “Just let it happen.”

“Someone should take her own advice,” Malroth snorts from behind me as his shadow falls over us. My hands drop to my legs and I turn to look at him, glaring at the darkened figure from above me.

“Not now, asshole.”

“I love pet names.” He says in a saccharin sweet tone.

“Oh, get bent,” I turn back to the girl who throws up again and finally takes a full breath without coughing.

“I’m…dying—and you two are bantering?” The pink haired girl snaps and I’m immediately less endeared toward her situation. I sit back on my heels and look her over as she checks herself out, pulling her wet camisole from her body and makes a sound of disgust.

_Yeah, you and me both_.

“Wait—you’re that apprentice builder from Hargon’s ship.” She says squinting at me. “What the hell happened? All I remember is you running errands for them like you were part of the crew once your head healed.”

“I did what I had to do to survive,” I say flatly and stand, reaching out a hand to the girl. I pull her up onto her feet in the shallow water. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lulu St.John.” She says with an air of snootiness about her. I don’t like this girl, she was the type I would avoid back in Turnsby. The girls who think they’re better than everyone else just because they’re beautiful.

“Well, Lulu, I’m Violet, and this is Malroth.” I say gesturing behind me.

“What kind of name is ‘Malroth’?”

“Mine,” Malroth growls. “What kind of name is ‘Lulu’?”

“A good one,” she says triumphantly. Malroth grumbles and walks off a few steps.

“Can we ditch the bitch, Violet? She’s annoying.”

“Excuse me? You know what? Just for that—you’re stuck with me, you jerk. I’ll show you a ‘bitch’.”

“Are you two done flirting, because I’m fucking exhausted already,” I turn and walk up to shore and out of the shallows, leaving the two of them behind me. Despite the kelp I noshed on, my legs felt like lead and I just wanted to sleep for a while.

I just got back to the hot part of the sand when I notice a strange outcropping in the rock off to the right. It’s geometric—not the natural bulges and recesses of the cliffside. A hut? Well I’m about due for some luck.

I trudge to the flat chalk walls and the closer I get the more and more apparent it becomes that it is indeed a hut. I begin to move quicker, my body spurred on by the new discovery as Lulu calls out from behind me wondering where I’m going.

The tattered bits of cloth that seemed to be used as a door at one point are nearly gone leaving a dark hole into the dwelling. Enough light shines in that I can see that nothing has taken up residence there, so I step into the sand covered room and let out a contented sigh.

“Great, Violet! You found me a house!” Lulu chirps and my eyes roll in their sockets. She really is out of her goddamned mind if she thinks this place is ‘hers’.

_Finders keepers_.

I turn and stick my head out to find Malroth on one side of the door and Lulu on the other, her bright blue eyes alight with excitement. She pushes past me and into the shack, knocking me off my feet enough that the only thing that kept me upright was Malroth catching me. His strong arms were around my waist, and then I was hauled against a hard chest.

“What the fu—” I slap at Malroth’s arms to get him to let me go—he doesn’t.

“This is unacceptable!” I hear from inside. “There’s nothing in here—I’m not sleeping in the sand.”

“Well what did you expect, Lulu—the goddamned Ritz Carlton?” I say and slap at Malroth again who chuckles and finally relents. I step a few feet away, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I expect you to build me something to sleep on, builder,” her tone is demanding as ever, and grows louder. I whip around to see her standing there like a frustrated mother—hands on her hips. All that was missing was a tapping foot.

“Where do you get off telling Violet to do anything?” Malroth’s voice is hard.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Lulu says and gives him a once over.

“No-oh god no,” my eyes widen, and I wave the idea off. Malroth was hot, don’t get me wrong, and if I weren’t so angry and exhausted and had some time to get to know him better…maybe something could happen but not now—and no titles.

After Rodderick I didn’t know if or when I’d be ready for something that serious. Certainly not for a long time.

The memory of my ex and Elysha replays in my brain and I’m just tired enough that I start to tear up. I hate being an emotional crier—it usually only happens when I’m this sleepy. Lord knows how many nights I’d built tables back in Turnsby, using the sound of the drill to drown out my sobbing.

But I don’t want Malroth or worst of all, Lulu to see me cry. Girls like her get the scent of weakness and they don’t let go—and there was no way I was being Lulu’s emotional whipping girl, so I turned on my heel and stalked off down the beach.

It wouldn’t be a full-on bed, but a thatch mattress would have to do—hopefully I could find enough sea grass for the three of us to get some shut eye.

“Where are you going?” Lulu ‘humph’s.

“To make your fucking mattress,” I yell back, swinging my Cypress Stick at a patch of beach grass on the way by, taking it off right above where it poked out of the sand. I bend down and grab the blades and continue.

Maybe I’ll find more seaweed on the way.


	3. I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet is exhausted, but despite wanting to drop, Lulu's attitude sends her down the beach in search of materials to make thatch mattresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. NaNoWriMo is coming up and this isn't my project for it, so my attentions have been elsewhere. I'm hoping to continue this along with my word count for NaNo, but updates might be weekly instead of every few days.

> **Chapter 2: I See You**

The sun didn’t let up as I walked around the chalk cliffs gathering more sea grass. It was brutal, and I knew my pasty skin was going to burn. I didn’t tan, unfortunately, I went from zero to lobster in about an hour.

Still, I was glad to be away from Lulu—even though I was doing her bidding and that stuck in my craw, I was still excited to figure out how to make the straw mattresses. It would involve some cord, but I saw some Ivy I could use on the way back to put everything together.

I was on my own for maybe ten minutes before I heard feet crunching in sand behind me, and my shoulders slumped. In my irrationally angry state, I didn’t enjoy either of the prospects.

“Violet,” Malroth’s deep voice surrounds me as I hit another bush with, he Cypress Stick and bend to gather my bounty.

“What is it?” I ask blandly. Malroth doesn’t deserve my anger, he tried to stick up for me with Lulu…not that it worked that well seeing as how I was still gathering grass.

“Why are you doing what that cunt wants? We should just walk off and leave her there—not let her know where we’re going. Just—let’s just go find somewhere else.”

The idea is alluring, but I’m not that type of person. Benefit of the doubt time:

Lulu might be acting out because she’s scared, and I don’t want to abandon someone that’s hurting, not matter how rude they’re being.

“I can’t. If you want to go—”

“Why not?”

“Because if it were me in her position, I would be absolutely crushed if the only living people I encountered up and left because I might be having a hard time.” I sigh and slap the bundle of grass against my leg as my arms flap. “I just don’t have it in me to do that to someone.”

Malroth makes a disgruntled noise and looks back in the direction of the shack. I follow his gaze and see Lulu curled against the chalk walls staring out at the sea, much like what Malroth was doing when I found him.

“Like I was trying to say, Malroth, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

The response is immediate and confusing. Why the hell was he speaking in ‘we’s like he and I were connected in some way. We’d just met—we hadn’t had a proper discussion yet, and somehow, he seems…attached.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say quietly.

“You’re not bad to be around,” Malroth runs a hand through his wavy hair, pulling the strands around his face back to reveal more of his face. “I don’t think…I don’t think I’m the type of person to leave you at her mercy.”

“What makes you think I’m at her mercy?”

“Well you’re doing this to shut her up, right?” He smirks. “Violet, who survived a khopesh to the head bows down to a girl with stupid hair for some peace and quiet?”

I can barely see him; my eyes have narrowed so much. He was calling me out…and he was right.

“I’m tired, okay? I just want to make these and get some sleep.”

Malroth looks around the large space of beach, and by the way his mouth moves he’s counting in his head. I follow his gaze, and unless he’s counting shells the only thing out here is driftwood and sea grass.

“Only worry about two mattresses. I’ll be fine.” He says simply.

“What?” I whip my head back his direction, the ends of my hair itching my skin as it hits my arms. “No—how are you supposed to get any rest?”

“I’ll be fine in the sand. You’re tired, and two mattresses will take less time to gather. Especially if I help.” With that he walks off and starts pulling the grass clumps from the ground. I watch him as he jogs from place to place, easily pulling the bunches out by the root.

“Why are you doing this, Malroth,” I ask doing my best to try and keep up with him—his legs are longer than mine, so he covers more ground, especially since he’s moving quicker to begin with.

“Because I want to help.”

“But why?” I insist.

He stops and turns to me; he looks confused as I feel. He drops the blades he’s carrying, and I see that I’ve touched upon something.

“I…don’t know.” His face pinches into irritation and he growls in frustration. “Why do I want to?”

It was sad to see really. He doesn’t function like how I would picture an amnesiac would. I thought I’d have to explain more things—help him do stuff, but no. He just doesn’t understand him—right or wrong, his motivations. Anything that would point Malroth to who he was, was erased save for his name, and even that didn’t lend any clues.

“Maybe this is telling you something?” I suggest, feeling horrible he seemed to be having a crisis because of my questions.

“Telling me what?” Malroth looks to me his expression begging for answers from me.

“That you’re a good person. Not just anyone would volunteer to sleep in the sand, and still help gather the materials for the comfort they just gave up. It shows you care.”

Malroth makes a face at the word ‘care’ like it’s a dirty word. I snort and push hair out of my face that was blocking my view of the beautiful man before me.

“Just my opinion.”

He stands there for a few more seconds like he was debating on something. Be it to continue helping or huck the grass into the wind and leave, I wasn’t sure, but in the end, he reached down and pulled out the last bunch by where he was rooted.

My feet dig into the loose sand while I continue to scour the beach for grass. I didn’t think that thin mattresses would do, so I was gathering extra so I wouldn’t have to re-make them at Lulu’s request. Malroth was doing the brunt of the work, moving quicker than I could in my exhausted stupor.

I finally gave up trying to gather grass after Malroth got in front of me and started pulling the clusters of grass in my path. I went for the ivy on the rock instead, stripping the leaves and leaving the vines intact to bind the mattresses.

My skin was a rosy pink by the time Malroth came up, his arms full of grass. In addition to what I had, and the fines around my neck, we’d have enough to shut Lulu up and for me to get some rest.

“Right, so…now what.”

“Now,” I sigh, “we head back to ground zero and I start weaving. Those strands aren’t going to be long enough, so I have to connect a few so that it doesn’t fall apart.”

“Really? That much work?” He grumbles. “Fucking Lulu…you should be resting. You look dead on your feet.”

“I feel dead, but the job’s not done,” I smile sadly and touch his arm, my thumb running over the hair on the top of it. “Thank you for realizing I’m not a robot.”

Malroth’s gaze drops to his arm. My thumb stops moving but my hand stays where it is. The difference in my pale peach skin and his deep sun-kissed tan is beautiful, and I think he’s looking at that too because a small curve appears on his lips.

When he looks up at me his eyes are softer than they were before, the red not as ominous as it was upon first glance. I look back at him, and I realize that like he had said about me earlier—he’s not bad to be around.

“C’mon,” I say and slap his arm gently, “let’s get this done.” Turning from Malroth I head back to the sea shack, my legs and arms starting to get tingly from lack of nourishment. That would have to come later—I’ve worked on harder projects with less fueling me, before.

I’m just within yelling distance when Lulu starts up:

“Well there you are! How long does it fucking take to find grass?” She plants her fists on her hips as she looks at me. I drop into the sand next to the shack and set the grass I’m carrying next to me, taking strands to weave together for the long bits without a word to her.

“Don’t ignore me, Violet—what were you two doing?”

“Working while you sat on your ass and did nothing—” Malroth snaps. “You want the mattress for your beauty sleep? Well I hope it fucking works because you’re ugly right now.”

Lulu’s jaw drops finally silenced. I smirk at the grass I’m weaving, glad he succeeded in shutting her up this time. More grass gets piled next to me as Lulu tries to come up with a response and after floundering for a minute or two, she flips us both the bird, mumbles something about being inside and stomps back into the shack.

Malroth chuckles and drops down into the sand in off to the side of me and folds his arms across his chest as he watches me work in silence. His eyes never leave my nimble fingers as they weave the sea grass together. It was like he was studying—trying to learn, and I thought about teaching him but that would end up just slowing me down and delay sleep.

We sit like this for an hour. I have enough weaved for both mattresses and then I move to my knees, the granules of sand digging into my skin as I lay out the long strips and start laying the shorter blades on top.

“All this for a mattress? Why don’t we just let her sleep in the grass like the animal she is?” Malroth grumbles.

“Because—we’re better than that.” I respond as I look around for a rock with a sharp edge. I need something to cut the vines into smaller lengths.

“We are?”

“Yes. At the end of the day—with someone like that, my advice is to make sure you’re superior in the way they act. Karma will come back and fuck them eventually.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t really sound like he understands what I said fully, but I wasn’t going to explain it, now. I had found a rock and was busy cutting the vines.

That didn’t take too long, the vines were just dry enough that the rock went through them easily, yet when I went to bend them and tie the grass together, they didn’t snap.

A few short minutes later and Lulu’s mattress was done. It was far from picturesque but when I pressed on it, it was a decent padding for the hard sand.

“Lulu!”

I hear a rustling of fabric and then pink hair pops out of the door, a scowl underneath it.

“What?”

“Your bed is ready.” I tell her simply and gesture to it.

Lulu eyes the bed. Her brows pinch and her mouth opens like she’s going to say something catty, but she closes it, instead and comes out of the hut. It’s starting to get toward twilight, and the sun is low over the water casting a golden glow over Lulu.

Lulu bends down and grabs the mattress, which despite not being pretty, stays together. Thank god. I probably would have cried.

“Thank you,” Lulu whispers.

“Welcome.” Her skirt nearly whips me in the face as she turns and heads back into the shack. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and shake my head. I’m getting foggier and foggier.

Thankfully, I have most of the work for my own thatch mattress done. All I must do is put it together. So that’s what I do, trying to quell the shaking in my hands as I tie vine and place grass. At this point, I’d take the sand. My eyes droop and the world rolls every time I blink, but somehow, though it takes longer than it should, I get my mattress put together.

“Thank fucking Christ,” I breathe and do my best to get up without falling back on my ass—or worse, my face. I nearly topple over, which sends Malroth to his feet to try and steady me, his hand on my lower back as I bend do grab the thatch.

“I’m fine, Malroth, thank you,” I say softly the grogginess evident in my voice.

“Like hell,” He responds with a sigh. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed. I might not be a builder but I can try and find some food for us while you rest.”

“Mmmm…food,” I salivate at the idea of one of Darrick’s wife’s hot meals.

“Oh no—sleep, now,” my companion chuckles and helps me upright by taking hold of my shoulders. Malroth steers me to the shack, the dark doorway beckoning me along with Lulu’s soft snoring.

“But—”

“No. Eat when you’ve had rest, Violet.”

“Fine,” I grumble and stop at the door, turning my head to glance at the man behind me. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” He grins, and I laugh, albeit weakly. “Now. Sleep.” Malroth lets me go and I turn back to the opening, so I don’t hit my head on the door frame and move inside, dropping the mattress on the far side of the small room from Lulu and collapse onto it.

_Damn I did a good job_.

I smile sleepily and roll to my side, using my arm as a pillow like I would if I were asleep back in my loft. It’s dark in my corner of the room since the door is by my feet, and it helps me to drift off fast, unconsciousness quickly overtaking me as I am lulled to sleep by the sounds of the ocean.


End file.
